


Not All Angels Are Dicks

by NoahAllenE



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/F, F/M, Human!Castiel - Freeform, M/M, Sioux Falls, dean is trying to quit hunting, first fic, mechanic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-26 22:15:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5022565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoahAllenE/pseuds/NoahAllenE
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean knew that hunters never got out of the job, there's always more monsters to kill. But Dean also knew he really wanted to get out of this line of business. He thinks that he's always wanted out, but it wasn't until the recent passing of his brother that really settled his internalised conflict. </p><p>He was going to get out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not All Angels Are Dicks

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So fair warning, this is my first attempt to write a full fic. So it won't be great. And I also have a hectic schedule so in the wise words of Frank, I will be posting on a nonscheduled schedule. And please comment any critique because I need advice to get better! And I haven't tagged any warnings as of yet, because I'm kind of just writing this thing as I go, so as I write, I will change the ratings accordingly. Warning will also appear before chapters for your discretion, thank you!
> 
>  
> 
> No Warnings Apply

Despite how badly he's tried to leave hunting behind, it seems that hunting wouldn't leave Dean. He started by setting up a plan, which consisted of finding the least demonic activity-plagued area in the continental U.S. and live there.

However, the monsters seemed to follow him around. So he stopped traveling to hunts if they were fifty or more miles away; he was strictly local these days. Doing so seemed to make less monsters come after him, now the only thing plaguing his small town of Sioux Falls were the demons--and lets be fair, they'be always had it out for Dean.

Dean was even adjusting to the normal life, too. Life without hunting has always seemed unappealing to Dean, but he never knew what it was like. He has a normal nine-to-five job at the Meineke Car Care Center, a small one-bedroom apartment off of interstate-42, and has had pretty successful dates (even though he never went too far, because as a former hunter, there's a lot of paraphernalia from his past life style he couldn't explain with out being sent to the cuckoo's nest).

Dean valued his white-meat life that he had, the consistent schedule he had satisfied his military-wired brain and his OCD very well, but he hardest part was the revenge. Whenever a monster was stupid enough to rear its ugly face anywhere near Dean, he went full kamikaze to try and kill it, all to avenge Sam, to make sure he didn't die in vain. Of course, life as a hunter catches up to him, and that was when a thundering crash came from inside his apartment while he was working under his baby.

Dean shot out from under the car and grabbed his glock with normal rounds, in the chance it was a human that picked the wrong person to mess with, and the holy water. When he opened his apartment door he saw kitchen cabinets on the ground, and a fallen bookshelf above them, and a fallen ceiling about that. However, the first thing that struck him as odd were the pot of flowers on his window-sill that were in full bloom, despite it being the middle of November. The same pot of flowers that was barren before he went out to work on his car.

An insistent rumbling came from under the mess in his kitchen and he went back into full hunter, the glock long gone. Dean stepped carefully over the pile of lore books mixed with his favourite novels. He picked up the bookshelf and threw it off, the ceiling flying with it. All it took was removing one cabinet to see the shape of a man under the mess.

"What--" the gravelly voice tried to get out before he was interrupted by the splash of holy water onto his face. "Eugh, was that holy water? Where am I?"

"Listen here, pal, when I'm the one falling through your roof you can ask the questions. First things first, who are you, and why didn't the holy water deep-fry your skin?" Dean asked, feigning confidence, hiding his confusion perfectly after years of practiced lying.

The man seemed unperturbed by the spectacle, and the bastard even seemed amused,"I am Castiel, and I doubt that holy water would have affect on an Angel of the Lord.


End file.
